


Within Madness, Without Magic

by Trash_000



Series: Under Covers, Over Curses- The Series [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Awake Belle, Cursed Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Cursed Storybrooke (Once Upon a Time), F/M, Pre-Season/Series 01, The Dark Curse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-01-02 07:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21158159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trash_000/pseuds/Trash_000
Summary: After the events of ‘Out of Towers, Into Travels’, and before the events of ‘Under Covers, Over Curses’.StoryBrooke is your average small, costal town where nothing ever happens. The people go about every day just the same as the one before, stuck in their own little ruts and for the most part entirely unhappy with their lives. It’s almost as if their trapped within a cursed reality and every aspect of their lives is prewritten to their discomfort.But for Mr. Gold, there’s sometimes a touch of irregularity to his usually dull existence.Her name is Belle.





	1. Chapter 1

Mr. Gold frowned at the sight, unsure of what to do. There was a woman asleep next to the dumpster at the back of his shop. She was a young thing, not yet thirty, and he could tell that outside of her current circumstances she would typically be quite pretty. 

A squirrel hopped off his shop roof onto an old metal trash bin, making a racket, before scurrying away and the girl was startled from slumber. Scratch pretty, the girl was breathtakingly beautiful. One look into her crystal blue eyes was all the proof he needed on that. She seemed disoriented as she woke, looking around herself in confusion and startled when she noticed she wasn’t alone. Her lips parted as if she was about to speak but words never came, she only stared, and for a moment so did he. 

He wondered if sleeping outside of his shop had been intentional or not. He was known here and there to be a deal maker of sorts and this woman was very obviously in need, her tangled, matted hair and the grime clinging to her skin told a story of homelessness as did the desperate expression amongst her face. That was an experience he knew wasn’t pleasant. “Hello, there.” His voice greeted before he’d made the conscious decision to say anything. “Do tell me, is it very comfortable snoring ‘round back of me shop?” 

Once again her mouth opened but again she didn’t speak, instead deciding to shake her head. He chuckled at that. “No? Ah, well I hadn’t imagined so. On your feet Dear, you may’s well come in for tea.” He turned away from her to unlock his back door, blinking confusedly because he had no idea what had drove him to invite her inside. He wasn’t typically so nice. Perhaps he subconsciously wanted to help her because he felt for her situation. He was no stranger to life on the streets, after all. 

The old lock gave way with a click and the door opened with a soft creak. Casting a glance over his shoulder he noted she was standing up and so he lead the way inside, flicking on the lights as he did every morning and then moved towards the small stove to start a pot of tea. As he went about preparing their drinks he heard her shuffling inside and shutting the door behind her. “Have a seat.” He said, directing her with a airy gesture of his right hand in the direction of his work-table

When he turned to her with a small tea tray he found her cerulean eyes locked on him, scanning his form curiously. He wondered briefly if he frightens her. She must know who he is. Perhaps she was worried he’d invited her in with an ill intent in mind. He supposed it was good she was being wary as just because he wasn’t that type, he certainly knew there were men like that in town. 

He cleared his throat and couldn’t help the small smirk that pulled at his lips as he watched her eyes go wide in horror at being caught staring. He said nothing, only circled around to his seat on the opposite side of the table. He placed the tray before her and poured them each a cup of tea. He added only a drop of cream to his own, favourite cup, sipped it leisurely, and sat back in his chair to eye her over the brim. He found her watching him again and sighed exasperatedly. “What?” He asked, tone clipped and she jumped slightly before shakily preparing her own cup, casting quick glances his way every few seconds. “Have I something on my face?” 

She shook her head. “No…” she said before sipping her own, much too sweet, cup of tea. Who the hell took three sugars? “I’m just trying to figure something out.” Her accent surprised him. Sure, StoryBrooke had an oddly high population of immigrants from all around the globe, but an Aussie was rare. The only other Australian he could think of was the florist. He wondered if perhaps they were related somehow, he could see them as an estranged father and daughter pair if he squinted. 

He sipped his tea again before reaching for a tin at the end of his desk, he opened it to reveal a few peach tarts and took one for himself. “And just what may that be?” He queried.

She bit her lower lip in apprehension, an oddly alluring action that put a most unexpected thought into his old head. He thought he might want to kiss her. He wasn’t sure why as he typically wasn’t attracted to pretty young women, or anyone really. How odd, but not the point of this interaction. He pushed the stray thought aside as she started to speak again. “Well, taking in my current environment, it would be quite difficult to explain without sounding absolutely insane.” She shrugged, eyes roving over him again, then her eyes focused on something and she smiled almost fondly. “Your cup is chipped.” 

He glanced at it and hummed. “Yes, so it appears so.” He bit off the corner of his treat.

“Why haven’t you thrown it out then?” She asked him, with a raise of her brow.

He took a long moment to think about it, and quite honestly, he didn’t know. He gave her a small shrug. “I’ve always been fond of it. It’s a unique little piece, chip and all.” 

“I see…” she mumbled before taking a pensive drink from her brew. After a quiet moment in which he managed to finish his tart and take another mouthful of tea she asked a rather odd question. “Does the name ‘Rumplestiltskin’ mean anything to you?” 

He blinked owlishly at her before cocking his head ever so slightly to the left. “As in the fairytale character?” He asked, wondering how her little mind worked to have come up with a question like that. Perhaps she was ill? That would explain the homelessness enough to him. The streets were much more preferable in comparison to the StoryBrooke Asylum. “The little imp who spun straw into gold? I can’t say he’s of much significance, no. Why ever would you ask?” 

Her expression seemed to fall, she appeared almost melancholy. “Oh it’s nothing, really… I was just hoping you might have remembered something.” 

He narrowed his eyes at that. Did she know him from somewhere and he just didn’t recognize her? Was there something he should be remembering about her? “Who are you?” 

She met his eye with a look of hope. “My name is Belle.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another meeting with the strange girl  
Another cup of tea  
Another bout of generosity

She was there again. Granted, it had been a while since she’d last been seen by his dumpster, nearly three months, and half of that time the time before that. He’d seen her a few times loitering in a few places around town since their odd little initial meeting. Around the side of the Rabbit Hole, in one of the patio chairs at Granny’s, on a bench down by the pier, but most often he’d seen her curled up in the entryway to the old abandoned library.

He often exchanged a friendly nod with her and occasionally, when nobody was looking or paying attention dropped a bit of cash for her, just enough to get something to eat with. Despite her being a little cuckoo at times, he found himself unable to be crude or ignorant towards her. He secretly enjoyed their little kinship. Conversing with her over tea was easy and allowed them both to forget reality for a little while as they spoke of story book characters.

Finding out she indeed had some sort of relative in the florist had been an interesting discovery. He hadn’t meant to pry but for some ungodly reason he couldn’t resist the urge to ask Mr.French last week while collecting the rent if he knew a Belle. The man had growled out that yes, he did and that he didn’t give a damn about her current predicament, she’d made her choice and now she had to live with the consequences. They obviously had a rough past, which Gold was both curious about but also didn’t really want to dig too far into. As interesting as family conflict could be, he understood better than anyone that it wasn’t an open topic of conversation. 

He took the few extra steps towards the shivering, sleeping frame curled next to the trash and with a sigh, nudged her with his cane. She startled awake and looked up to him at first with fear and then upon eye contact she relaxed and shot him a friendly if awkward, smile. “Hi…” she murmured sleepily. 

He hummed in acknowledgement before gesturing for her to follow him. Upon entrance he immediately went to prepare the fixings for tea while she seated herself to begin her wait. They had a silly little discussion about whether or not Snow White might be good at archery as the tea steeped, but during that time he noticed she seemed a little more off than usual. It was only after they were both comfortably sipping their beverages and chewing on little tea biscuits that he bother to ask her “Why are you here, Belle?” 

She shrugged, eyes falling downcast to where her fingers fiddled with a stray string on her ratty old jacket.. “Rumour has it you’re the place to go in desperate times…” 

“Yes, that’s typically the way it is.” He nodded before assessing her situation again. It was early November and the weather was getting colder by the hour. Some nights it even snowed now, and that was no walk in the park for someone with nowhere warm to go. But Mr.Gold wasn’t known for generosity, per say.“However surely rumours have also mentioned that I charge a price.” 

She began to chew her lip in that irresistible way that she tended to, her brilliant eyes thoughtful. “You wouldn’t by any chance need a… um… maid, would you? I could work for it.” 

His eyes narrowed on her at that, trying to determine her meaning. Was she merely offering cleaning services or was she suggesting something much lower on the moral scale? Whatever the case, he wasn’t interested. “I don’t trade for services, Dear. I’ve no need for any kind of caretaker.” He dismissed with a wave of his hand in front of his face.

She seemed to deflate then, head bowing down and hands tangling in her birds nest of curls. “That’s all I can offer.” Her voice was small, meek, filled with worry and he felt his old heart squeeze in empathy. 

He sipped his tea, allowing himself a moment to think. He couldn’t just throw her back out into the cold, could he? However would he feel if she turned up frozen and dead one day? No, he felt he must help her in some way, somehow. He just needed to figure out a way to do so. 

His eyes danced to the cot on the other side of the work room and then to the small bathroom behind him and to his left. In that bathroom there was a small shower that he used if he acquired anything that needed a quick wash. He never used it himself because he had three much better showers at his house, but there was a basic bar of soap in there. He returned his gaze to the girl, who still appeared distressed and nodded to himself. “Perhaps a deal isn’t suitable for the time being, but maybe I can part with a favour.” 

“A favour?” She asked, perking up ever so slightly. “You mean you’ll help me?” 

He shrugged. “Well I’m not just going to watch you slowly waste away on a street corner. That would be cruel.” He glanced toward an old grandfather clock and took note of the time. He should be opening shop right about now. He stood up and made his way around to her side of the table. “You may use the shower in the washroom. Clean yourself up and we’ll discuss things further.” 

He pushed through the dividing curtain and entered the shop front as he made his way the door to open up. Once again he questioned himself on his reasons for being so kind to this girl. He wasn’t typically so, not to anybody but her. It simply seemed she brought out the best in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is the purest form of love, below True Love of course.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two weeks after he began housing her in his shop, there are surprises to go around.

“Rise and shine, Dearie, it’s a new day.” He announced as he entered the workroom two weeks later and flicked on the lights. He heard her groan and watched her toss and turn about to try to block out the light. He smirked when she relented a moment later and sat up on the little cot with a pout. 

He raised an amused brow at her expression. “Now, is that how my generosity is appreciated? Perhaps I’ll just keep my little surprise to myself, and you can go back to sleeping amongst my trash?” He was only teasing, something only a select few people could bring out of him but it still caused her expression to change and for her to get a move on her newfound little morning routine. 

She huffed an amused breath and muttered one of her nonsense little sentences of “You’re just like him sometimes.” As she folded up the old quilt he’d given her for warmth and placed it neatly at the end of the bed. She then made her way into the tiny bathroom to fix her hair and change into one of the few outfits he’d bought for her. 

In this time he started on the tea. He’d bought some fresh tarts from the bakery today and was rather excited to share them along with the bout of great news he had with Belle. He had a gut feeling that she would be very happy with what he had to offer her today. 

He heard her exit the bathroom just as he was setting the tray on the table and they ended up seating at the same time. “How was your rest?” He asked to kill time as he uncovered the tarts and set one before her. “Any more strange dreams?” 

She shrugged. “The usual experience, I suppose, in the sense that it was a memory. Strange however because it wasn’t a very pleasant one. I was locked up in the tower again. I was cold and hungry and calling for him, hoping that he’d hear me. He was visiting the Queen that day, I know it, I could feel his magical presence, but he didn’t know I was there. He never figured it out, I never got back to him.” She frowned, sighing and eyed him over with a deep sadness upon her features. “And now I fear that I may never. I don’t know how to find him anymore.” 

He listened to her odd little dreams, the crazy, impossible events she swore had been real, every so often. It was strange, aside from these ‘memories’, from her much to strong belief in magic and fantasy events, her unwavering assurance that she was friends with fairytale characters, Belle was completely normal. She didn’t seem at all like a harm to herself or others, she was fully capable of providing for and taking care of herself. Other than this one little thing, she was normal. Perhaps, if you caught him in a good mood he might describe her differently, however. She was a beauty, and she was bright. She was actually really brilliant, extraordinarily well-read for a young woman. 

He supposed maybe that’s where the problem may have stemmed. Perhaps with her nose always being in a book, her brain hadn’t developed that bit that allowed one to divide reality from fiction. Perhaps she was a lonely child, one plagued with a few subtle mental illnesses that went unchecked, who didn’t get out enough and so growing up the children’s fable characters really were her only friends and as she aged her mind had twisted such stories into being her truth. He wasn’t a psychiatrist, however, so he had no way of really telling what caused her oddity.

However it had happened, it was certainly a sad sight for him to see. Here was this gorgeous, almost completely competent, absolutely intelligent girl, who was somehow also an absolute nut-case because she was twenty-eight and still believed in magic and monsters to a most extreme extent.

He shook his head and heaved a sigh, returning himself to their conversation. “You’re always mentioning a ‘him’ when you tell me about your dreams.” He observed. “Who is he?” He asked semi-curiously, because he knew from experience that it was better to just go along with her instead of argue. She was stubborn and wouldn’t listen to anything he had to say against her ‘memories’, acting as he were incompetent, as if he was merely too dumb to understand.

She smiled fondly at his question. “See, if you were him, you’d still ask that question. He was always oblivious to when I was speaking of him.” She giggled as if any of what she had just said had made any sense and then sighed, a small smile pulling at her lips. “He was my True Love… but he… he” Her expression dropped and she shook her head. “It’s no matter, now. I just hope you’ll know who he is again one day.” 

“Who who is? I can’t very well know him if you don’t tell me who he is.” 

She shook her head again. “You’ll think I’m speaking crazy.” 

He rolled his eyes, wanting to tell her that she was already saying insane things that made absolutely no sense, but also not wanting to stir on another argument. He dismissed her worries with an arrant wave of his hand. 

She was chewing her lip again, as she always tended to do when unsure and nervous. She then bowed her head with a sigh. “Rumplestiltskin. I’m talking about Rumplestiltskin.” 

He just stared at her then, hoping to the heavens that she was joking but he could only read sincere honesty from her face. He pinched the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh as he sat back in his seat. How did any of this make any sense to her? Even if she had trouble separating fact from fiction, what on earth would influence her into thinking the three foot tall deal-making, gold-spinning imp was her true love? He just couldn’t understand her.

She sighed as well, and shook her head. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me. Now The Enchanted Forest aside, didn’t you mention having a surprise for me?” 

He nodded slowly. “Yes, I’ve got a job lined up for you… though I’m starting to wonder whether or not an appointment with Dr.Hopper would suit you better.”

She waved away the mention of the psychiatrist with a smooth hand gesture that mimicked his own from moments earlier. “A job you say?” She asked with a grin. “What? Did you finally come to your senses and decide I could dust your expensive Knick-knacks?” 

He rolled his eyes, wondering just what is was with her that had her hung up on maid work. “No. I attended the Town Council meeting earlier this week and inquired about plans with the former library building. Madame Mayor stopped me yesterday to see into why I was interested and I mentioned knowing a homeless woman who could quite possibly make a stellar librarian if she wished. It took a bit of twisting words to my advantage and a peek into your records to see that you are not a convicted felon, or a known drug user, but I managed to get her to agree that not only does homelessness in StoryBrooke make her look bad, but also that a running library would be most beneficial to the town.” He pulled a set of keys from his pocket and set them on the table top. “The library comes with an apartment for the caretaker, and as it would have it, I’m your new landlord. You may move in this coming Sunday, and Mayor Mills expects the library to be open within the month. We’ll discuss rent once we get a look at your wages and monthly income and of course you can always come to me if you’re in need of a loan.” 

Belle blinked owlishly at him for a long moment before hesitantly picking up the set of keys. She fingered the simple circle keychain, tracing the labeled ‘Library’ that was written on it in permanent marker. A smile tugged at her lips and he thought he might’ve seen tears welling in her eyes. She had stood and stepped around his desk far too quickly for him to properly react and the next thing he knew she was hugging him. “Thank you, Mr. Gold.” She almost whispered. “You have no idea how much this means to me, and I’ll pay you back one day, I promise!” 

He chuckled at that, though it wasn’t the dark and sure-sounding sound he was used to emitting. It was awkward and almost soft, his mind having a hard time comprehending why she was embracing him. Where he was meant to say an ‘I’ll make sure of that, Dearie.’ He merely nodded and half-stuttered out a lousy “Yes, alright.” 

He had no idea why that, despite her oddities, and despite his typical uninterest in... well, people in general, she seemed to have an affect on him. He just knew that he didn’t like it.

Or did he?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it’s been such a long while since my last update. My life just kinda got flipped upside down for a while there and I had no time to write, but I’m back and getting settled now.   
Kudos and comments would be greatly appreciated if you’re enjoying your time here! Thanks 
> 
> ~ Trash <3

**Author's Note:**

> Well this is long overdue but I’ve finally got this in the works!  
Updates will be irregular due to several circumstances, unfortunately, but it will be completed, so stay tuned!


End file.
